


Slow Dancing in the Dark

by the_saddest_avenger



Series: Hit Shuffle and Let's See What Happens [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: Abuse, Bucky Barnes Has Issues, F/M, Hurt Bucky Barnes, Hurt No Comfort, Murder, Not Beta Read, Reader-Insert, Sad, Sad Ending, The Author Regrets Everything, Toxic Bucky, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-07
Updated: 2020-08-07
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:01:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25768606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_saddest_avenger/pseuds/the_saddest_avenger
Summary: I listened to Slow Dancing in the Dark by Joji and this is what came from itPlease read tags, this can be triggering to some people
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes & Reader, James "Bucky" Barnes/Reader
Series: Hit Shuffle and Let's See What Happens [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1868194
Comments: 2
Kudos: 12





	Slow Dancing in the Dark

**Author's Note:**

> I love Joji, and it's such a sad song if you've heard it

Being with Bucky was difficult, with him being on the run. You remember the day you met him like it was yesterday. He had broken into your house for shelter, and when you came home from work he tackled you to the ground. It was terrifying when his metal arm closed around your throat, but when he assessed that you weren’t harmful he let you go. He had been around ever since, and love had eventually formed between you and your unexpected roommate.

Bucky was a difficult partner sometimes. You knew it wasn’t entirely his fault, with his PTSD, memory loss, and depression; but his insecurities and anger issues were the worst to handle, even worse than his nightmares. Anytime you so much as talked to another man, Bucky would get mopey and bitter. He always tried to go out with you, and you had to fight him on it, fearing for his safety. 

It seemed lately that every outing had resulted in a screaming match back at home. It was draining, to say the least. He always instigated it with some kind of bullshit ( _ I don’t like how you said ‘thank you’ to that cashier, why are you texting your coworker? _ ), and you had threatened to kick him out multiple times when the arguments got way too bad; he had a habit of saying hurtful things when he was upset. It usually kick-started him, and he would drop to his knees asking for your forgiveness, begging for just one more night to make things right. And he would smooth it over for a few days until the next outing you had for supplies.

It wasn’t all bad, though. When you and him were good, things were great. You both forgot the problems happening outside of the home, forgot about his mental health issues, and life was domestic bliss. You gifted him a record player for Christmas, and he would play his favourite songs from his time. He’d grab you by the hand after dinner and dance with you late into the night as he whispered sweet nothings into your ear.

You and Bucky were walking to the farmer’s market in town one Saturday, looking to stock up on some groceries. He had your hand in a tight grip, eyeing the crowd with distrust. You went from stall to stall, purchasing vegetables and handing him the reusable bags you had brought when you bumped into an old friend from college.

“ _ Patrick _ ?” You called out to him excitedly. You didn’t know he was back in town. He greeted you with the same excited energy, and pulled you in for a friendly hug. As you walked around to finish up your shopping, you caught up with him. You learned that he started his own IT business in New York and it was doing really well, and you were happy for him.

Before you could say goodbye, Bucky was damn near dragging you back to your house, an angered look on his face. “Bucky, stop,” you quietly begged as you tried to get your arm out of his grip. “You’re hurting me…”

He ignored you, stomping all the way home with his jaw set in anger. Once the two of you were inside, he finally released his iron grip and threw the bags onto the counter as he yelled your name in anger. “What the fuck was that?!”

You held your wrist as you looked at him, tears in your eyes. “What are you talking about, Buck?”

“Don’t fucking  _ ‘Buck’ _ me! You were clearly flirting with that  _ scum _ ,” He shouted as he hit a lamp your grandmother had gifted you after graduation. You watched it fall over and shatter and your tears finally fell. “I don’t know why I even  _ bother _ . I obviously can’t compete with him,” he muttered as he gripped his hair in his hands to try and tame himself, with no success. He let out a cry of anger and stormed up to you, pushing you against the wall with his forearm against your throat. “God, you’re such a fucking  _ slut _ sometimes!”

He reached his other hand back and you flinched away; but instead of hitting you he punched a hole into the wall right next to your head. He let go of you and stormed to the bedroom, slamming the door. You were shook to the core. He had never, not once, gotten physical with you. No matter how bad things got, it had never gotten to that point. You crouched by the lamp and cleaned it up, your tears blurring your vision.

You didn’t follow him to bed that night, knowing if you did you’d end up forgiving him. He had crossed a line you never thought he would. He had put you in danger when he promised you he’d keep you safe. Your mind was made up. You had to leave.

You spent the night packing up the things you absolutely needed, thinking about where you could go. When the sun started peaking over the horizon, you slipped out of the house without a sound.

When Bucky woke up, you were nowhere to be found. He was ready to rush out of the door to find you when he saw a note on the counter and gingerly picked it up.

_ Bucky, _

_ I tried so hard for you to give me reasons to stay. You used to be the one to hold me, and you became someone completely different. Yesterday was a sign that I can’t trust you to be around me anymore. It doesn’t feel safe for me to be with you anymore. I don’t want to come home. I can’t give you any more chances. So this is goodbye. _

Bucky looked around the trashed living room and closed his eyes as tears quietly slipped down his face.

-

A year had passed since you had shut Bucky out of your life. You moved to New York, starting over completely from the ground up and throwing yourself into your work. Patrick, unknowing of the reasons for your move, was more than happy to set you up with a job, and it was enough money to help you rebuild your life. It wasn’t easy at all, but you did it. Your roommate Kiara was a nice girl that worked at a nearby bakery while she did night classes for college. She was quiet, and it was a fresh breath of air.

You came home late after a business dinner with Patrick and some potential investors, as you shrugged off your cardigan, you stilled at the familiar song that played quietly in the small apartment. In the corner of the room you saw a silhouette sitting in the chair, the familiar glint of metal in the moonlight causing shivers to run up your spine.

“Bucky,” You greeted as you set your purse on the counter. You heard him say your name, his voice barely above a whisper.

“It was really hard to find you,” he commented as he got up and walked towards you.

“You weren’t supposed to find me,” You bit back in annoyance. He pulled you into his arms with a firm grip and slowly moved your bodies to the beat of the music.

“I don’t like your tone,” he muttered, trying not to lose his patience. He had been working really hard during the past year on his temper. You scoffed and pushed him away.

“Goodbye meant goodbye, Bucky! I don’t want to fucking dance with you. I don’t want to be with you!” You yelled turning to reach for your phone to call for help.

A loud bang resonated through the apartment, and you felt a sharp pain between your ribs. You looked down as you saw blood staining your blouse and turned to look back at Bucky with wide eyes. He put his gun away and walked towards you, pulling you into his embrace. “I’m so sorry, doll…”

Your legs finally gave out, and he crumpled to the floor with you, pulling you into his lap and rocking you to the music. You took a struggling breath of air, coughing up blood on your exhale. He rubbed his thumb against your cheek, looking into your eyes as you slowly succumbed to the pain.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm open to requests. I love this little song series I'm doing. It doesn't have to be just sad ending stuff either. If I vibe with the song and it sparks that creative energy I'll probably do a piece for it.


End file.
